In Needles And Guitar Strings
by thelilacfield
Summary: Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson have had each other's names tattooed on their wrists since the ages of fifteen and fourteen respectively. They don't know each other, but people know them.
1. One

In Needles And Guitar Strings

"And here with me I have the very handsome and increasingly successful singer-songwriter, Blaine Anderson." The pink-cheeked blonde reporter, her long hair teased up into a neat bun, grabbing Blaine's wrist with a manicured hand, far too close to the leather cuff hiding the name on his wrist for comfort. "Blaine, your newest single leapt to the top of the charts within two days of its release, how do you feel about your sudden popularity?"

Blaine turned to the pretty young woman, so young, teetering on her spiked heels in the area cordoned off for reporters, holding a microphone to his face, her eyes shining with innocent hope, and he smiled winningly at her as flashbulbs went off all around, people screaming his name. "I'm always so grateful for the attention I've gotten and the wonderful I have from all my amazing fans who are out in force tonight," he said with practised ease, waving to the crowds of people cheering wildly for him, stretching over the barriers in attempts to touch him. "And I know a lot of my fanbase are teenagers, and Teenage Dream is all about that feeling of being young, of finding love for the first time and wanting everything forever. It's about being lucky enough to find your soulmate young."

"And speaking of soulmates, are you willing to tell the general public whose name is under that stylish woven leather cuff you're so fond of?" Jacob Ben Israel asked, shouldering his way to the front of the pack of reporters and shoving a microphone directly into Blaine's face. "Pray tell, who is the lucky girl?"

"He's a lucky man," Blaine said, disguising his general disgust with the pasty-faced man. "And I have made it clear that I don't want to reveal my soulmate's name to the public. But a lot of my songs have been written while thinking about him, and I'll be singing those tonight."

He turned away after signing a few autographs and allowing a couple of lucky fans to take pictures with him, and Cameron came running, dragging Blaine by the arm to his dressing room, chuntering on about how he had to get inside faster and not sign so many autographs, as the half an hour call for Blaine echoed through the concert hall and the faint strains of the warm-up act could be heard.

"Are you experimenting with how much skin can be shown without getting into a lot of legal trouble?" Blaine quipped as Sugar buttoned up the black shirt to barely cover any of his torso. She winked at him and pushed him down into a chair, lining his eyes carefully and fixing his hair one last time.

"You look hot, honey," she said, squeezing his bicep and faking the face of one of his fans being allowed to touch him, all wide-eyed wonder and thinly disguised want. "It's a good thing your soulmate's in the audience tonight." Blaine's five minute call echoed above them, and she kissed Blaine's cheek and ran the lint brush over his ass and thighs one more time, collecting the dust motes that appeared magnetised to the skintight black jeans. "Knock 'em dead."

Blaine smiled at his stylist, his friend, and blew her a last kiss as he ran down the corridors, reaching backstage in time for someone to fit a headset over his ears and signal to someone to switch on the microphone for him before the audience could be heard screaming for the warm-up act, then the deep, dramatic announcer's voice coming over the intercom, barely intelligible over the screams echoing around an auditorium ten-thousand people deep in his fans. "And now, the man of the evening, the one you're all here to see, Blaine Anderson!"

The spotlights whirled and the cheering was deafening as he leapt straight into _Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?_, to the affirming shrieks of so many in the audience, through _When I Get You Alone_, _Fighter_ and their old favourite, the song that had sent him into the cutthroat world of the rich and famous, _It's Not Right, But It's Okay_. The music slowed then, and he worked his way through _What Kind Of Fool_, _Somewhere Only We Know_, _Cough Syrup_, and finally _Hopelessly Devoted To You_, gazing helplessly at the shadowed figure in the front row, wishing he could only clearly see those eyes for the first time.

Finally he stopped singing, and he took the microphone in hand, smiling out at his audience in that disarming way that had people the world over swooning. "So this is my new song, which I'm sure you've all heard, it is pretty overplayed right now," he said with an apologetic shrug that had people shouting at him that it was a perfect song, that it didn't matter one bit. "And this is for everyone out there with those names on their wrists. Whether you've found your soulmate, or you're still looking, or you know exactly who they are but you don't know how to approach them, this is dedicated to you and that magical feeling when you look into your soulmate's eyes for the first time and all you can think is…_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on, you think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong, I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down._"

The entire room is screaming and bouncing in time to the beat, and Blaine let his eyes sweep over the crowd once, to appreciate how far he'd come since filming himself singing _Baby, One More Time_ in the living room of his first apartment with his first and worst boyfriend, before allowing them to drift back to the person in the front row, his face thrown into sharp relief and glowing with the spotlights drifting over him as he gazed up at Blaine as reverently as anyone else, finger and thumb massaging over the raised veins on his wrist just above the simple, worn leather band he wore.

He bid goodnight to the show and walked outside with his guitar case slung neatly over his shoulder and a bright smile on his face, signing autographs for lingering fans, feeling the proud flush creep into his cheeks when he saw the board with his name standing at the door, plastered with yellow _SOLD OUT_stickers. He slid his phone from his pocket and positioned himself in front of the boards, waving cheerfully at the camera, and snapped a picture before navigating to Twitter.

**Blaine Anderson ( yoiwantmynameback)**  
**Awesome show tonight! Check it out, I'm popular! ;)**

As he watched the photo upload to join the tweet, looking up into the night sky, Blaine smiled down at the neat letters etched into the skin of his wrist, _Kurt Hummel_scarred deep and destined into his flesh. His soulmate had been in the audience tonight, impeccably dressed and heart-stoppingly handsome, looking up at him with reverence shining in his eyes.

How could he know that, at that very moment, a thousand reporters and analytical fans were pouncing like starved wolves on his latest tweet, uploading it to every social networking site and gossip blog on the internet, picture after picture of his smiling face, hair limp around his face with sweat, arm outstretched and the flash of the camera capturing the neat script on his right wrist, clearly telling the world exactly who his soulmate was.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter! :)


	2. Two

"Morning, Charlene, grande nonfat mocha please," Kurt said, hitching the folder of designs higher beneath his arms, fidgeting agitatedly with the band on his wrist as his favourite barista prepared his order. "Keep the change," he added as he slid a ten-dollar bill to her.

"My my, do we have an Oscar-winning actor in here that I don't know about?" Charlene asked, her eyes focused on the crowd of reporters beyond the glass. "Jesus, I'll have to go out there and ask them to clear off, it's far too early for so many flashbulbs."

"They're all here chasing me because my _stupid_ soulmate tweeted a picture that clearly showed his damn mark and reporters have been knocking down my door and calling my landline and my mobile for six hours," Kurt said, fury building in his tone as he viciously ripped open the sugar packet and emptied it into his coffee cup. "The headline on JBI Gossip is 'When Guitars And High Fashions Collide: Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson's Torrid Romance'. Torrid romance my ass, I've never even met the guy, I just know he's mine and I'm his and maybe I don't want him anymore because he's a certifiable dumbass."

"Oh come on, Kurt, he's your soulmate, he's meant for you, you're not going to break a bond like that because he made a mistake, even famous people like you and him slip up," Charlene assured him, taking the sugar away from him. "You're going to add more than you like, and I'll double the charge for making you another one, what a waste of perfectly good coffee."

Kurt turned on his heel, glad that the shop was mostly empty and no one had seen his little outburst. The only other customer was a woman in a black suit sitting at her own table, typing on a laptop and hitting the keys so violently every crack echoed through the entire room. "Kurt Hummel?" she asked, looking up at Kurt with shrewd eyes. "My name is Santana Lopez, and I'm Blaine Anderson's manager. I have to try and keep that crazy boy in check, and even I am out of my depth with this situation. I can't cope with all the calls and I can't stay in my house, reporters are knocking down my door, I had to call a bodyguard just to get to the car without being buried in a sea of those vultures, and I believe you are in the same situation." Kurt nodded and slid into the chair opposite her when she gestured. "Come with me, I have a proposal for you that will probably help both of us."

* * *

Blaine awoke to a pounding on the door, searing straight into the morning fog of his mind, and he grumbled to himself as he staggered out of bed, grabbing his old _Dalton, Class of '08_ hoodie and pulling it on, sliding the leather band waiting patiently on his nightstand straight on out of habit, padding barefoot over the hardwood floors to open the door.

An irate Santana stood on the doorstep, already perfectly composed in her black suit and hair scraped neatly back, glaring at him as she stormed past his outstretched arm into the house, hitting him over the shoulder with her briefcase. "Are you a fucking idiot?!" she screamed, punctuating every word with another smack of the leather into his skin. "How could you do this? People have been knocking down my door all day and I had to smash my phone into the wall to make it stop ringing and the internet has literally exploded! You are a dumbass, Blaine Anderson!"

"What did I do?" Blaine asked, ducking another blow and darting into the kitchen. "Explain it to me while I make you the coffee you so clearly need. Do you want muesli or waffles or anything?"

"I've already done my best with an apple and a cigarette while I was in the car on my way to clean up your mess, I'm fine as long as you give me more coffee," Santana said, slamming her briefcase down onto the desk. "Last night, that picture of yourself you tweeted after the show, you didn't have your cuff on because you were by yourself. In that picture, everyone could see your mark, and no one failed to analyse it and publish it and make it the top story in every major media outlet in the damn world!"

The clink of china echoed around the room as the mug slipped from between Blaine's fumbling fingers and smashed against the countertop and Blaine swore, sucking the little cut on his finger where the jagged edge of a piece had dug into the pad of his finger. "Oh my God, San, I'm so sorry, I never meant for this to happen, is...does Kurt know?"

"Try 'has Kurt been getting harassed by reporters for over six hours now'," came a voice, familiar and sending jolts of joy through Blaine's entire body, heard before now only in recordings, and Kurt Hummel strode into his kitchen, long legs and perfectly coiffed hair and arms toned and exposed in his skin-tight T-shirt when he shrugged off the long cardigan he wore, and Blaine's mouth went dry at the sight of him. "Okay, you can take that band off, everyone knows what's under it anyway."

Blaine tried not to moan when Kurt's hands landed on his skin, pulling the worn leather band off his wrist and exposing his mark, a white-hot flash of belonging and wanting arcing through Blaine when Kurt's fingers traced over his own name, carved in curling letters into Blaine's skin. "Okay, boys, here's what we're going to do to try and make this less of a publicity scandal," Santana said sternly. "You two are going to tell the media you've been dating for three months now, but continued to keep your marks and your relationship private for personal reasons. Don't elaborate on that no matter how much people push. And you will have to act like boyfriends in public. Is that a problem for either of you?"

"Not at all," Kurt said sweetly, head on one side as he sipped at his coffee, and Blaine couldn't help wanting to move closer to him, drawn to his soulmate, need calling out from the point of his mark against the pulsepoint of his wrist.

"Me neither," he echoed, a second late and a little hoarse.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this update! :)


	3. Three

**Santana Lopez ( SnixLopez)**  
**The big reveal is tonight, for all you Anderbabes out there. Hope you're all hanging onto your hats!**

* * *

Blaine smiled down at the new tweet flashing on his screen, and turned back to Maria, who was still fidgeting with the camera, one of the other assistants playing with Kurt's hair, adding volume to it with the can of hairspray she was brandishing as if it was a weapon. "Your hair's so lovely natural," the woman above him said cheerfully, rubbing mousse into his curls to keep them tamed, and Blaine made a face at Kurt, long-sufferingly accepting the fact of being treated like a doll.

"Alright, people, we've got this all planned out, in and out in an hour!" Claude called, stubbing out his cigarette out on his thigh and brushing the ash away. Blaine saw Kurt wince at such open abuse of clothing, and laughed fondly. "Right, boys, get in position, look alive and in love. Use those acting skills."

They placed themselves against the dark blue background, dressed in their pale colours, Kurt in the pale blue jumper falling rakishly off one shoulder, and Blaine in his cream shirt and deep wine red bowtie. His heart jumped into his throat as Kurt cradled his face tenderly in his hands and looked far into his eyes.

"Perfect!" Claude shouted triumphantly. "See, people, this is how we do a photoshoot! Okay, you guys do what feels natural and ignore the flash." Blaine nodded once and leaned into Kurt's touch, lowering his hands to rest on the notch of his waist, curling his fingers into the material a little and smiling at Kurt, astounded by the almost poetic way the usually harsh light of the flash played perfectly over the side of his face.

The time went by easily, as Claude called out occasional instructions and captured every moment: the brush of Kurt's eyelashes against his cheekbones as he blinked at Blaine as if he could hardly believe he was real; the open and natural tenderness in Blaine's eyes in the frames of him carefully untying Kurt's cuff from his wrist; the curls of their marks peeking out from where their skin was pressed close, fingers entwined; the way Blaine had to rise up slightly on his toes to rest his chin on Kurt's shoulder in a way that made them seem as if they were dancing; and, when he called out, "I think you need to kiss to make this shot work! Only one, I promise," the moments of anticipation. He caught Kurt's tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, the hitch of Blaine's chest as he took in a sharp breath of air, Kurt lowering his head and Blaine raising his face to meet as their lips met in a kiss, soft and sweet and breathless, Kurt's hands curled against Blaine's waist, steadying him, and Blaine's hands holding Kurt's face as carefully as he would a precious antique.

It took only a moment to snap individual photos of their marks, and then they were dressing in their own clothes, comfortable and easy for their day alone from the media and the fast pace of their separate and slowly entwining lives, and then they were going home, watching the nervousness and hysteria of their fans growing, debating who their soulmates were, who they would be kissing, and some cases of fierce argument over their sex lives.

**Blaine Anderson ( yoiwantmynameback)**  
**Can't wait for you guys to see the pictures of me and my boyfriend. They're so gorgeous, claudetoppenhagen is a genius!**

**Kurt Hummel ( everythingscomingupkurt)**  
**The pictures are so beautiful, I'm going to have them all framed and up on my wall.**

"This is it," Blaine said when the call came to announce that the interview would be going live on the magazine's web page in five minutes. "Are you ready to have the media leap on us like a pack of starving dogs?"

"I'm sure it's worth it, for us to be together as soulmates," Kurt said softly, nudging into the chair beside Blaine, their thighs pressed together as they refreshed Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook pages and waited for the inevitable explosion.

* * *

**THE BIG REVEAL: KURT HUMMEL AND BLAINE ANDERSON - SECRET BOYFRIENDS FOR THREE MONTHS**

In a reveal that is bound to shock the nation, it was told exclusively to _BUZZ_ magazine that Blaine Anderson's tweeted photo, featuring his cuff-less wrist and the name of his soulmate, was not, in fact, an accident. The up and coming singer/songwriter revealed today that he and his soulmate, Kurt Hummel, fashion designer and famous owner of _KEH Design_s, have been secretly together for three months, and are very content in their relationship.

"We don't quite know if it's love yet, but it can't be far away from a lifetime of bliss," says Kurt of the new relationship, smiling tenderly at Blaine next to him on the sofa and taking his hand. "My entire life has changed since I met him, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

When asked if the new relationship was the inspiration for his new number one single, _Teenage Dream_, Blaine blushes and bashfully confesses, "The song is for that feeling when you first meet your soulmate, and I think I'm still basking in that feeling. Sometimes I wonder if the honeymoon stage will ever stop. I am so completely head over heels for Kurt, and he is my teenage dream. I feel sixteen again, with him." Kurt smiles at him and leans in to meet him for a soft kiss, undoubtedly the most adorable thing I have ever seen a couple being interviewed do.

I can only say of the couple that they are clearly very happy with each other, and they are openly and easily affectionate, a beautiful thing to see, and they compliment each other perfect. You might even see that they are each other's missing puzzle pieces.


	4. Four

Blaine leant over the mirror, switching on the light overhead to fix his hair, reaching instinctively over to grab the half-full pot of hair gel, only to find that it wasn't there. He looked up to see Kurt's eyes glinting mischievously at him in the mirror, dangling the pot from his fingertips. "Kurt, when I said you could stay here two days a week, I didn't mean that you could move everything around to make room for your cleansers. And stop putting bronzer in my moisturiser."

"You look good with a little colour," Kurt said brightly, dancing away from him with the gel in his hands. Blaine tackled him, knocking him into the bed, and grabbed back the pot with a smirk. "Come on, Blaine, your natural hair is gorgeous, don't slather it down. Here, sit on the bed and let me go find my mousse and_ I'll_ fix it for you." Blaine rolled his eyes, but obediently sat down, crossing his legs beneath him and flicking pieces of lint from his red jeans, fiddling with the placement of his bowtie.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Kurt asked softly, kneeling behind Blaine with mousse in hand, massaging it into his hair, Blaine tilting his head back, eyes fluttering and a groan vibrating in his chest as Kurt's fingertips scratched at his scalp and accidentally tugged on his hair a little. "I know we're going to a bar, but what makes it so special?"

Blaine pulled himself from the depths of bliss to answer, "It's a karaoke bar, we all meet up there once a month and stay there until the owner politely asks us to leave. It's just a nice night when we can all goof around and not get harassed by marauding paparazzi. There'll be Sugar, Sam, Mercedes, Mike, Tina, Brittany, Santana, Rachel and us there. Good night, everyone gets a bit tipsy and we all sing a lot of duets."

Kurt smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as he bounced up, wiping his hands off on a towel and looking himself up and down in the mirror one last time, giving Blaine the opportunity to appreciate the endless legs in their tight jeans, toned arms in the white shirt, dragging his eyes away when Kurt turned around. "Well, I can't wait to sing a duet or two with you," he said softly, and Blaine grinned at him as Kurt squeezed his hand and turned back to the mirror to give his hair one last spritz of hairspray before the car arrived for them.

The bar was already filling up when the arrived, lights low and Santana up onstage singing _Girl On Fire_ to the adulation of the crowd. The blonde waiter pointed Blaine to his regular table, where the rest of their group already sat, Sugar raising her cheek for a kiss as he slid into the seat beside her, the last empty one. Arching an eyebrow at him for letting go of his usual gentlemanly qualities, Kurt shrugged and perched himself in Blaine's lap, settling himself down and winking at him as Blaine closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, trying not to react to the pressure of Kurt's ass against his dick.

After Santana finished to wild applause, Sugar dragged Brittany and Tina up with her to a cheerful rendition of _Candyman_, followed closely by Sam, armed with his guitar, coercing the entire bar into singing _Red Solo Cup_ with him, then followed by Mercedes and Rachel belting out and playfully competing with _Take Me Or Leave Me_ to a tumultuous standing ovation, then Mike singing _Everything_ while smiling tenderly at Tina, then Rachel and Santana leaping up to sing _So Emotional_, joined by the other four women to sing and dance to _Diva_, after which Blaine took the stage with _Billy Jean_.

"Okay, newbie," Sugar said, turning to Kurt with a bright smile on her face as another patron took the stage with a passable rendition of _Let's Get It On_ that had Tina and Brittany both giggling, "you want to sing a song, you go talk to Pascal over there by the jukebox. He has everything from bubblegum princess pop for Blaine to Broadway classics for Rachel, so just sing for us all and enjoy yourself."

Kurt pressed a fleeting kiss to Blaine's temple and scrambled up, and Blaine didn't even try to hide the blatant way he watched the undulating sway of his hips as he walked away. He didn't expect Kurt to explode like a star onto stage with an incredible rendition of_ Not The Boy Next Door_, gyrating his hips in time to the music. Gazing up at him, all Blaine could think was _He's incredible, and he's mine, all mine_.

When Kurt finished his song and took a bow to cheering and wolf-whistling, Blaine ran to meet him at the side of the stage and flicked through the selections until he found the one he wanted, pulling Kurt up onto stage and taking the microphone, voice husky and eyes dark with want as he gazed on Kurt, beginning the song, _"Is it still me who makes you sweat, am I who you think about bed, when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? Then think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it, when the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin."_

Smirking at him, Kurt stepped close as he sang, voice deliciously low and sending shivers down Blaine's spine and heat flooding south, _"I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck, than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me. Boy, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat? No, no, no, you know it will always just be me."_

Overwhelmed with sudden knee-weakening lust, Blaine circled Kurt throughout the song, a chase like a game of cat and mouse, both knowing they would eventually be snared, until the final chord faded away and, out of breath, they placed their microphones back in their stands and slid backstage in a mutual agreement for a need of a quiet, dark, private place. It took only a moment before Blaine crashed his lips against Kurt's with a moan of satisfaction, hands gripping at his hips and backing him up against the wall, hitching one of Kurt's legs around his waist with a growl as Kurt's mouth opened beneath his eager tongue and they panted into each other's mouths, scrabbling at clothes and rolling their hips in a rhythm that didn't quite match in anything but fervent desperation.

"Want you," Kurt whispered, and Blaine's heart began to pound in earnest, dick throbbing painfully in his jeans at the look of Kurt, flushed, dark-eyed and swollen-lipped, hair mussed up from Blaine's hands clinging into the chestnut strands, chest heaving with rough pants dragged between his wet, red lips. "Want you now."

"Home, now," Blaine agreed, pressing a last kiss to Kurt's pale neck that turned into sucking in earnest as Kurt mewled and writhed against him, grinding the obvious hard bulge of his dick in his jeans against Blaine's thigh, until Blaine detached his mouth, admiring the large, infallibly obvious red mark his ministrations had left behind, and took Kurt by the hand to drag him out of the bar.

* * *

**Songs included at the karaoke bar:**

**Santana:** _Girl On Fire **-**_Alicia Keys

**Sugar, Brittany and Tina:** _Candyman _- Christina Aguilera

**Sam:** _Red Solo Cup _- Toby Keith

**Mercedes and Rachel:** _Take Me Or Leave Me_ - RENT

**Mike:** _Everything _- Michael Buble

**Rachel and Santana:** _So Emotional _- Whitney Houston

**The Women:** _Diva _- Beyonce

**Blaine:** _Billy Jean _- Michael Jackson

**Passable Singer:** _Let's Get It On _- Marvin Gaye

**Kurt:** _Not The Boy Next Door _- The Boy From Oz

**Kurt and Blaine:** _Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off _- Panic! At The Disco

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :)


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